


silence

by mnemememory



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 07:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15769803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemememory/pseuds/mnemememory
Summary: Yasha screams until she can't. Then she starts walking.





	silence

**silence**

...

...

Yasha walks, silent.

She’s screamed herself out of sound. There’s an empty pit between her ribs where it should sit, coiled, but there’s nothing. She keeps walking, and there’s nothing underneath her feet, either. Yes ahead, mouth pressed right, blood slowly dripping down her knuckles. When had that happened?

It doesn’t matter. Don’t think about it.

Her eyes are set, dead ahead (dead, dead, dead oh god he’s dead, they’re dead –) on the storm in the distance. Lightning flashes, and the world breaks into black and white. Yasha closes her eyes and does not cry. Her chest is empty, and so are her eyes.

There’s a tug between the blades of her shoulders, a bloody string snapping taunt. Yasha takes another step, and another, and then stops. She can’t breathe. There’s something wrapped around her lungs and squeezed tight, the string like wire cutting across her throat. She swallows, razors on her tongue, and collapses face-forward into the ground.

The storm stays in the distance, mountains hovering in her peripheral, lightning peeling back the encroaching darkness. But it’s so far away, and Yasha is so tired.

_Scream_ , a voice says. There’s spectral pain along her stomach, at her back, slicing through her arms and legs. Everywhere, there is a memory of blades.

_Scream_ , a voice says, and Yasha stays silent.

(until she can’t).

Yasha closes her eyes and sees the imprint of walls on the back of her eyelids, sees soot-stained ghosts and grinning teeth. She’s in a room, with liquid fire and cutting knives and everything was wrong but it was _better_ , it was _so much better_ than whatever this is. She wants it back, wants the burning pain back, she wants –

Not this. Yasha wants anything but this.

Something cold and wet drips onto her fevered forehead. Yasha looks up as another drop of rain – and another – and another – and another – catches her in the eye. Soon, it’s a downpour, sweeping down her body. Yasha shivers in the mud and curls to her side, sword at her back, rain washing away the blood.

There’s a weight to her side, vaguely humanoid, vaguely not. A light hand on her hair, a tug at her back. The wire snaps, and Yasha can breathe, but she doesn’t want to.

Yasha wants to say – something. Anything. _Why didn’t you–?_

The presence doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. Just sits with her, stroking a hand down her hair, head tilted upward to soak in the silent rain.

...

...

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the radio silence - I've been crazy sick, and haven't been able to post anything :( 
> 
> this is just a little drabble, and then I'll post something longer for campaign 1 tomorrow.


End file.
